East Cheam and Down

My Dear Fellows & Dear Princess,

I woke up grumpy this morning. In fact, I've been feeling a bit grumpy old soddish for a few days now. 

I do not know why. It is odd. Like I've been possessed by the spirit of John Peel and Tony Hancock combined.

Work doesn't help. It's pretty busy at the moment and the days go fast, but I'm in one of those moods at the moment where every effer is effing useless and gaaaaaaaahhh I'll just do the effing thing my effing self.

You know? Like that. 

As if to mirror my mood, Wellington is shrouded in fog and the leaves are leaping from the trees. I walked under the trees at lunchtime and it was like being at a wedding with really big, leafy, wet confetti. 

Is that a thing? I think that should be a thing.

I stomped my way around to the pet store to get some peanut logs for the birds. The birds LOVE peanut logs. I put them out on the poop deck and the next thing you know a throng of flying hooligans are hammering away at it, like feathered pneumatic drills. We get through about two logs a day this way.

So I bought a bunch more and was stomping back to work muttering beneath my breath about the effing useless pack of effing eff...

...when two little bedraggled sparrows appeared in front of me. Right at the spot where I took this picture. I felt bad that I didn't have any food for them because I am stupid and forgot that I was now carrying a bloody bagful of sparrow food. I mean. It's not my usual load.

But it was like the little guys knew, and that reminded me. I rummaged in my shopping bag and broke off a piece and threw it for them and they were all, "Yaaaaaaaay".

Or whatever it is birds say in celebration. It might have been, "We love you, Kind Man" or "Ariba!" or "Oops Upside Your Head". Birds are weird.

The point is this. The mist, the constant rain, the birdies and the sense that I was being the stupidest effer of all the stupid effers descended upon me. I watched the little feathery fellows enjoy their snack and I felt better.

Tony Hancock begone.

S.